


Playing Cupid

by PUNCH



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Cupid AU, Cupid Hanzo, Cupid!Hanzo, Cupids, Fluff, Gardens & Gardening, Jesse has a cat, M/M, Romantic Fluff, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 15:37:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20473412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PUNCH/pseuds/PUNCH
Summary: Hanzo is a cupid. He works for Overwatch, an organisation of magical beings that aims to spread love and happiness.One fine day, Hanzo is assigned to help Jesse McCree find love.





	Playing Cupid

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Welcome to my self-indulgent Cupid!Hanzo AU. Please enjoy.〔･ᴗ･〕
> 
> AN: Some minor edits were made to Chapter 1 on 1 March 2020. Edits were only made in the last scene, after the last section break.

Hanzo dutifully read over the documents pertaining to his newest assignment as he walked out of Morrison’s office. _ Jesse McCree, _the document said. A helpful photo in the top right hand corner of the paper showed a tanned man with a full head of brown locks and a wide, brilliant smile. American, 6 foot 1, often seen touting a cowboy hat atop his head. Hanzo snorted to himself as he imagined the sight Jesse must make in public.

Well, stupid cowboy hat or no, Jesse had been assigned to Hanzo as his next mark. Hanzo would do his best to help Jesse find love.

* * *

Jesse was a hardworking man who worked two jobs, Hanzo learnt. During the weekdays, he was a full-time journalist for a local news company. For eight hours a day, five days a week, Jesse wrote articles, interviewed people, and even transcribed audio interviews into text format for the station. In the evenings, Jesse went for runs at the park near his apartment, ate dinner at home with his ginger cat, showered, retired for the day, and then did it all over again the next day.

On the weekends, Jesse worked part-time at a stable. He fed, brushed, took the horses out, and taught visitors how to safely ride the horses.

Hanzo nodded to himself as a plan started to form in his head. It seemed like Jesse was too busy to meet people and fall in love. The logical solution to this problem was to force Jesse to meet more new people.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The day after he received his assignment, Hanzo followed Jesse to a Mexican eatery near his office during his lunch break. Jesse was tall, and looked even taller in person, all broad shoulders, muscled arms, and confident swagger. Hanzo noted that the cowboy hat was absent today. The cupid quietly waited in line behind Jesse as the queue inched forward, his trusty bow and quiver securely slung over his back. 

Of course, it wouldn’t look like a bow to anybody else in the room. Hanzo had charmed the tools of his trade to look like a nondescript guitar case, and nobody would see through the magical concealment unless they already knew he was a cupid. 

It wasn’t until Jesse reached the front of the queue and opened his mouth to order that Hanzo learnt how _ loud _ he was. He spoke as if he had no regard for the people around him, the cheerful American proudly ordering himself a rice bowl with extra pinto beans and corn. “Double chicken, please,” Jesse added as an afterthought. His voice grated on Hanzo’s nerves a little.

Five minutes later, Hanzo sat at the table to Jesse’s left, a rice bowl identical to Jesse’s sitting in front of him. Hanzo ate his lunch as he discreetly glanced around the eatery, looking for potential new friends for Jesse.

A few minutes later, a lady chose to take a seat at the table on Jesse’s right. She was blonde, tall and slender, her hair pulled up into a neat ponytail. “Athena?” Hanzo murmured under his breath, pretending to pick at a glob of guacamole on his plate.

“Agent Shimada,” Athena’s cool, robotic voice said into his ear through the discreet earpiece Hanzo wore. All cupids were granted access to Overwatch’s AI while on the job, Athena’s database of information often able to help cupids estimate if targets were likely to be compatible with their marks. At the very least, Athena could prevent cupids from matchmaking their marks with people who were already in established relationships. “Identified subject is Angela Ziegler. Single, 37 years old, orientation unknown. She is a doctor at Mercy Hospital.”

Hanzo nodded to himself and deemed it entirely plausible that Jesse could find a lady such as Miss Angela Ziegler attractive. 

So Hanzo casually pulled his bow from over his shoulder, nocking an arrow to the string and surveying the scene in front of him. To anybody else in the room, it would look as if Hanzo was fussing with his guitar. He waited for an opening.

A few moments later, Jesse set his fork down for a moment to wipe his lips with a napkin. In a quick, measured movement, Hanzo flicked his wrist and spelled Jesse’s fork off the table.

By the time Jesse and Angela turned their attentions to the fork clattering on the ground, Hanzo had loosed two arrows from his bow, one lodging itself in Jesse’s shoulder, the other in Angela’s. Both arrows dissolved into nothingness as Jesse and the lady lifted their gazes to stare at each other, and Hanzo held his breath.

The arrows couldn’t force them to fall in love, of course. There was nothing in existence that could artificially create that sort of connection between two people. But the arrows would make them more alert to the emotions they were feeling, as well as inspire some bravery in them and increase their chances of acting on any attraction they might feel.

“Oh,” Angela said with a giggle. “You’ve dropped your fork.” Before Jesse could react, she leaned down and picked it up for him.

“Thanks, sugar,” Jesse replied in his deep drawl, reaching out and retrieving his fork from her with a sheepish grin on his face. “Sorry t’ disturb ya.” 

They both turned back to their meals, Jesse setting his dirty fork on the table and reaching for a new one from the utensils holder on his table. Hanzo stared at the both of them, blinking expectantly. 

Nothing. Neither of them cast so much as a glance at each other. Absolutely nothing suggested that either of them had caught each other’s eye.

  
Hanzo frowned as he put his bow and quiver away. Nevermind. He would just have to try again. At least this rice bowl was tasty.

* * *

Hanzo waited until the following Monday before launching his next attempt. It would make his job harder if Jesse noticed that strange things happened when the man with the guitar case was around. It was best to be cautious and not rush things. 

This time, Hanzo waited on a bench in the park near Jesse’s apartment. Jesse would turn up for his evening run any time now. To make his presence there seem more believable, Hanzo had brought along a loaf of cheap bread to toss at nearby pigeons. He already had a sizable crowd of pigeons eagerly pacing in front of him, every one of them waiting for the next crumb that he’d toss their way.

Jesse jogged into view ten minutes later, shirtless and in a pair of running shorts. Hanzo was struck by two things at once: one, Jesse jogged _ very quickly. _ His pace was closer to a run than a jog.

Two, it turned out that Jesse’s work shirt concealed a nicely-toned body during the day. Hanzo was still staring at the defined muscles in Jesse’s torso when the cowboy passed him on his first lap. “Howdy,” Jesse called out to Hanzo as he passed, waving a hand and grinning at him.

Before Hanzo could snap his gaze away from the formation of Jesse’s chest hair, the cowboy had already whizzed past and jogged away. 

Hanzo was ready for Jesse the second time he jogged by. He nonchalantly had his bow in hand, the rest of his bread loaf lying in pieces at his feet and keeping the pigeons happy. Hanzo awkwardly nodded in greeting as Jesse passed by, then quickly raised his bow and loosed two arrows the moment Jesse had his back turned. 

One of those arrows had been aimed for Jesse’s back, the other at the shoulder of a frighteningly tall and slim lady who was walking her dog on the path beside the running track. The moment both arrows hit their marks, Hanzo cast a discreet spell to cause the lady’s dog leash to slip from her hand. 

Sensing freedom, the happy pug quickly gamboled away, waddling right onto the running track in front of Jesse. 

“Whoa there, lil’ fella!” Jesse called out. He quickly halted in his step and bent down with a hand stretched out, presumably to catch the pug before it could get lost or hurt. “Whatcha think ya do-?”

“Oh, mon Dieu,” the tall lady muttered, with no small amount of impatience in her voice. She strode forward briskly, her long, dark ponytail dancing behind her. “Bad, Kevin!” she scolded the pug, bending down and scooping it up into her arms. “You almost tripped up this poor gentleman. Bad!” she gently pet the pug’s head as she reprimanded it, but Kevin seemed to be as happy as ever, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. 

Just as abruptly as the entire scene had unfolded, the lady turned on her heel and headed back the way she came, only setting Kevin back on the ground when they were safely on the walking path once more. 

Jesse watched them go, shrugged a shoulder, and resumed his jog. 

Hanzo’s nostrils flared as he huffed loudly through his nose. Who is this Amelie Lacroix? he wondered to himself, staring unabashedly at Jesse’s retreating back.

How could she possibly ignore someone with a body like that?

* * *

After that disastrous failure in the park, Hanzo withdrew and took some time to reconsider his plans moving forward. What was he doing wrong? He was usually quite good at reading people and guessing if a couple was likely to show at least fleeting attraction towards each other. He also never missed a shot with his bow. Where had he gone wrong?

As Hanzo mulled over the pug owner’s disinterest in the handsome Jesse McCree, a lightbulb went off over Hanzo’s head. “Stupid,” he muttered, hiding his face in his hands. How foolish of him to assume Jesse’s orientation. What if he had so far been trying to matchmake Jesse with the wrong sex?

* * *

Over the next two weeks, Hanzo tried matchmaking Jesse with seven men and six women. The cowboy didn’t seem to be interested in any of them, and had politely declined the advances of the one woman who had suggested they exchange numbers. It frustrated Hanzo to no end, the poor cupid looking so cross by the end of the second week that Morrison gently suggested he either take a break from this assignment or pass the assignment over to somebody else. 

But, no, Hanzo was more determined now than ever to help Jesse McCree. His coworker, Lena, had suggested that Jesse might simply not be looking for a relationship at this time. She suggested that Hanzo’s lack of success might be completely unrelated to his ability as a cupid. But Hanzo knew better. He’d watched the way Jesse forlornly smiled whenever he saw a hand-holding couple, and he’d had his heart broken by the wistful expression Jesse wore when he witnessed a man proposing to a woman in the park one evening. Hanzo had seen the way Jesse held one-sided conversations with his cat, and the way he waited by the phone every Saturday for his mother to call. Even if Jesse was not looking for romantic companionship, it was clear to Hanzo that Jesse was lonely.

So why wasn’t he making the effort to make friends? Hanzo didn’t understand, and the enigma that was Jesse McCree made Hanzo want to tear his hair out. 

* * *

Hanzo moodily sulked over a cup of coffee and a plate of madeleines at the cafe down the street three days later, finally forcing himself to take a break from his maddening assignment. Perhaps he needed to take a step back to see the bigger picture. Perhaps taking some time off would be constructive.

Hanzo occupied a window seat in the cafe, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he sketched on a fresh page in the sketchbook in front of him. The irony that he could stand on a rooftop and hit a mark a hundred meters away with an arrow, but could not focus on something thirty centimeters from his face, did not escape him. But it was what it was: Hanzo suffered from far-sightedness. He wore a long-sleeved tee shirt and a pair of jeans today, the ends of his jeans tucked into well-worn calf-high boots. His hair was let down, the silky locks flowing over one shoulder.

Art was a passion that few knew Hanzo possessed. The subject of his study today was the little potted plant sitting on this particular windowsill. Hanzo often enjoyed spending his days off in this cafe because a different plant sat on every windowsill, and plants were one of his favourite things to draw. While Hanzo wasn’t familiar enough with horticulture to be able to tell what kind of plant it was, exactly, he was utterly fascinated by the perfect symmetry displayed by the fanning pink-tipped leaves.

He didn’t look up till a very familiar Southern drawl spoke up right beside him. “Ain’t that a pretty picture?” the voice said, and Hanzo immediately snapped his sketchbook shut, whirling around to glare daggers at the man who’d so rudely looked at his drawing without permission. Indignation and self-consciousness blossomed fiercely in his chest, a blush crawling rapidly up his cheeks at the knowledge that somebody had seen his drawing. It was manners to ask before just looking over at somebody’s art! It was common sense!

Jesse was standing right by Hanzo, although his grin immediately faltered the moment he spotted Hanzo’s irate visage. Jesse quickly took a step back as if to put more space between himself and Hanzo, raising the hand that wasn’t carrying a cup of coffee in surrender. “Wait, I-!” Jesse cried, a sheepish expression quickly settling over his features as he caught up with Hanzo’s thoughts. “Aww, shucks, darlin’,” Jesse continued in the low baritone Hanzo was so familiar with. “I’m mighty sorry. I shoulda asked ya for permission first.”  
  
Hanzo found it difficult to muster up a verbal response, his mind still clambering to recover from embarrassment and surprise. His recovery was made even more difficult by the fact that Jesse had promptly apologized— it was hard to remain offended when presented with such a sincere display of remorse.

“I would appreciate that in the future,” Hanzo finally managed to say, glad that his voice sounded gruff instead of mortified. He neatly set his pencil on top of his closed sketchbook, then took a proper look at Jesse. 

Jesse was finally wearing that terrible cowboy hat that Hanzo had heard so much about. It looked well-worn, but was clearly well taken care of. Jesse’s hair was wavy and wild underneath the brim of his hat, and Hanzo caught a whiff of cigarette smoke emanating from his person. That gorgeous torso was hidden beneath a red flannel shirt today. Jesse wore jeans and — Hanzo was distracted by the gaudy belt buckle that caught the light. BAMF? What was BAMF?

“I was, I was, uh…” Jesse said, breaking Hanzo out of his thoughts. “I was actually gonna ask if that seat was taken,” Jesse said, jabbing the thumb on his free hand at the seat opposite Hanzo. Hanzo looked from Jesse to the unoccupied seat, and then back to Jesse. He raised a single eyebrow as if in inquiry. Jesse McCree, attempting to make friends? That was unlike the behaviour he’d exhibited for the past two weeks. Hanzo turned around and glanced at the rest of the tables in the cafe. Ah, they were all already occupied. That explained Jesse’s sudden eagerness to socialise.

Jesse must’ve taken Hanzo’s silence as reluctance. “It’s alright, I geddit if yer-“

“It is not occupied,” Hanzo smoothly assured the cowboy. He reached forward and pulled his cup and plate a little closer to himself, giving Jesse enough space on his side of the table to set his drink down. “You may share this table with me if you wish.”

As Jesse moved to sit, Hanzo briefly wondered if Jesse’s responding grin would blind him with its radiance. 

* * *

At first, Hanzo’s plan had been to leave Jesse be and return to his sketching. This turned out to be more difficult than Hanzo’d envisioned. The knowledge that Jesse was opposite him and would be able to watch him draw rattled Hanzo’s nerves for some irrational reason. It occurred to Hanzo that he could prop his sketchbook up at a forty-five degree angle against the edge of the table so that the page would be hidden from Jesse’s view, but that seemed excessive and childish.

He’d never get any more drawing done like this. Hanzo was considering just finishing off his coffee and leaving when Jesse broke the silence. “Can we start this again?” he asked, and Hanzo was surprised by the open sincerity he found on Jesse’s face. At Hanzo’s confused look, Jesse continued, “I noticed ya drawin’ somethin’ over there. Ain’t trying t’ be nosy or nothin’, but I was wonderin’ if you’d be willing t’ lemme see?”

The self-consciousness from earlier returned in full force, Hanzo very reluctant to share his art with this stranger. As if sensing his hesitance, Jesse pulled his phone from his pocket, flipping through his photos and turning the device around to show Hanzo what was on his screen.

It was a photo of a drawing. It was a wobbly pencil drawing of a cactus in a pot, with cross-hatching in the areas that Hanzo assumed should be in shadow. “Here, I’ll go first,” Jesse said with a little chuckle. “I like t’ draw the plants in my garden, but I ain’t that good at it… What you got over there looks a hell of a lot better than what I’m capable of.”

Hanzo secretly admitted to himself in the privacy of his own head that Jesse’s cactus drawing was… not great. Seeing that Jesse’s grasp of proportions was far worse than his own gave him the courage to share his own drawing. After all, it was harmless. Jesse just wanted to see his work. “I was drawing this plant on the windowsill,” Hanzo explained, finally flipping his sketchbook open to his half-done sketch and turning the book around so Jesse could see.

Jesse whistled appreciatively. “Yer sure got more of a talent in art than I do,” he complimented. “Yer usually draw succulents, or do ya draw all plants?”

Hanzo stared blankly at Jesse. “Succulents?” he parroted.

“Yeah,” Jesse said, jabbing a thumb at the succulent sitting on the windowsill. “This here’s a succulent. They have fleshy leaves and stems that store water.”

“Oh,” Hanzo said. So there was a reason its leaves were so thick and strange, after all. “I hadn’t known what it was. I do not know much about plants -- I just like to draw them.”

Jesse’s responding grin was bright and cheerful. “Ain’t anythin’ wrong with that, sugarbean. I just happen t’ like succulents cause they’re easy t’ care for. Got a lil’ garden full of succulents and cacti at my place.”

“Oh?” Hanzo asked, his curiosity genuinely piqued. “Are cacti a subset of the succulent family?”

* * *

An hour later, Hanzo left the cafe with more knowledge about succulents and cacti than he knew what to do with. The page with the succulent drawing in his sketchbook had Jesse’s phone number scrawled in the top left hand corner, written in Jesse’s clunky chicken scratch handwriting. "_You’re welcome to come see my plant collection any time! :)"_ Jesse wrote below his name and number.

Hanzo wondered if it would be a mistake to text Jesse. After all, Jesse was his mark. He was to help Jesse find love and happiness. Would it be inappropriate to contact him on his personal number for personal reasons?

But Hanzo really did want to see that plant collection.

Besides -- realistically, Hanzo knew that this dilemma was irrelevant. He'd already failed this particular assignment. Jesse already knew his name and face. There was no way he'd be able to follow Jesse in public anymore, not without rousing suspicion. And that meant that he could no longer do his job. 

So, really, there was no reason he couldn't become friends with Jesse.

_ [3:03pm] **Hanzo:** Hello Jesse. This is Hanzo. _

And then, as an afterthought, Hanzo sent a second message a minute after.

_ [3:04pm] **Hanzo:** What is BAMF? _


End file.
